The LemonYellow Coat
by TomRiddle'sWand
Summary: This is the story of the young capitol girl in the yellow coat, briefly mentioned in Mockingjay.


The Lemon-Yellow Coat

To watch my mother apply her beautiful makeup every morning was easily the highlight of my day. To watch her transform from a pretty but ordinary girl into a radiant woman with the shining, twisting, evolving lipsticks and powders that she carefully yet rapidly applied was incredible, it was like watching a butterfly unfurl her wings for the first time. Today, her brow was furrowed as she applied her pale pink facial powder, and I knew why.

The rebellion that had commenced after the 74th annual Hunger Games had begun to take its toll on the Capitol as a whole. There was a lack of luxuries such as caviar, jewels, and because of district 12's demolition, occasionally the power would go out. At least, that is what I have heard. My mother and father are personal advisors of President Snow himself, and ever since I was born, I have only known the highest of the high life. I was educated in 3 languages from the age of three, when I turned 4 I began complicated mathematics and when I turned 5 I began my studies of famous philosophers and began to create my own assumptions. Now at 8 years old, my father still tells me daily that assumptions can be dangerous, but of course I never listen. Father told me that when I was younger, I once demanded to speak to President Snow about the separation of the districts because I believed they were unfair. We laugh about that now, but I can still see the concerned looks that my parents give each other when I ask probing questions.

A screen appeared in the corner of my mother's mirror and we both immediately stopped what we were doing to stare at it. These compulsory screenings had become a lot more frequent since the beginning of the rebellion; they informed the Capitol of what the rebels were doing and supplies that would be low. Today though, the news was a lot more shocking. The rebels have actually invaded the Capitol! The newswoman looked tired and stressed under her glowing fuchsia makeup, but who could blame her? She began reporting areas that must be evacuated. 6th Street, 8th Avenue, 3rd Avenue, 5th Drive… Wait, 5th Drive? That is where I live!

My mother gripped my hand tightly. I knew she was afraid, Father wasn't home, and we would have to go out by ourselves. She sighed shakily and continued putting on her make up while she spoke to me. "Sweetheart, please go and pack your best clothes into your red duffle bag. Then go and put on a coat and some other winter clothes. I believe it will snow tonight." I stepped quietly out of the room, and pretended not to hear my mother's sniffs.

Walking into my room, I sighed, who knew when I would see it again? My cotton-candy pink walls, my giant rose-coloured bed that chose the temperature of the covers according to my body heat, and my collection of toys that could walk and talk, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to them! My eyes welled up as I began packing my red bag, skirts, shirts, dresses, undergarments, stocking, shoes, I packed as much as I could fit. Then I tried to put on as much clothes as possible. My white stockings, brown boots with the little yellow flowers, white dress with the brown ruffles on the sleeves and finally, the vintage yellow jacket that my grandmother wore when she was a little girl, when the first rebellion had just begun. Slipping it on, I smiled; it smells of my childhood and happier, lighter times. I kissed each of my teddies good bye, and told them all that I would see them again soon.

I walked into our kitchen and turned on the television whilst I prepared some snacks to take on our small trip. It wasn't until I was packing two perfectly red apples that I heard the word 'Mockingjay'. My head swam and my stomach flipped, that girl, Everdeen, the cause of all our troubles! She is the one that is making us evacuate! She is the one that has begun cutting of supplies! She is the one who is responsible for so many deaths! I ground my teeth as a picture of her appeared on the screen. "Reported to be in the Capitol. Please do not approach her alone, if she is seen, report authorities immediately." The image of her seared in my brain and I ran off to find my mother.

Stepping out onto the frosty road, we saw a few other people walking briskly through the snow. My mother nudged me, and we set off to join them. We had been told to go to the President's home; the lovely man has allowed people into his home until the rebellion is squashed. My pack felt heavy and the cold air bit my nose. We managed to trudge into the presidential square, which was packed with thousands of refugees, seeking shelter. Men with megaphones were directing people to the correct areas. My mother gripped my hand and held me close to her. "I love you my darling." She whispered. I went to whisper back but someone else caught my eye. A young adult was walking through the streets, looking around as if she expected someone to stab her in the back. I felt a pang of sorry for her, but then I noticed something else. She was wobbling in her heels, and her makeup looked hurriedly applied. She saw me staring at her and stumbled into the shadows, but not until our eyes locked.

Katniss Everdeen. The Mockingjay.

I opened my mouth to scream but my mother suddenly dropped to the floor, dragging me to my knees. The sound of a gunshot echoed around the square and people screamed. I wailed as I watched blood; red, salty blood drip down her head and smudged her makeup that she so carefully applied so carefully. People began to drop like flies, injured people falling onto the dead, their cries echoing in my head. Tears that fell from my eyes began to mingle with the blood and makeup on my mother's face. Then I felt pain.

It was like a red hot knife had plunged deep into my heart. It felt as though my lungs were being ripped apart. It was as though my mind was on fire. I looked down and saw blood, crimson and hot, blossom through my lemon-yellow coat. This is it, I thought, this is when I die. Death is not like in the films, when they have flashbacks to all the amazing moments of their lives. Death is pain, and struggle, and all you want to do is die just so you don't feel it anymore.

I collapsed onto my mother, my head on her heart. She was still warm, and I imagined that she was just sleeping instead, but I could feel no heartbeat. The cobbles were cold, and I began to feel numb. My vision grew blurry, and people swarming around the square began a mash of colours, so loud and so bright. The last thing my eyes were able to focus on was a snowflake. It drifted through the sky, oblivious to all the death and pain around it. It floated, lighter than a feather onto my nose, where I felt it melt. And as it melted, I felt myself too, melting away, into nothingness, into oblivion.


End file.
